


thy love is better than wine

by MiniNephthys



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, i don't normally post things this short but I just had to get some Good Het in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22540840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiniNephthys/pseuds/MiniNephthys
Summary: It's Caesar's privilege to spoil Cleopatra in any way he can.
Relationships: Gaius Julius Caesar | Saber/Cleopatra | Assassin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38





	thy love is better than wine

It is the duty, no, the privilege of a husband to spoil his wife. As a man in the lap of luxury, it brings Caesar great pleasure to share those luxuries with Cleopatra.

Food, of course, is an indulgence Caesar frequently partakes in. Cleopatra does not share his voracious appetite, and worries much more of her figure, but her husband feeding her by hand will not add a single calorie. And many a time has she gone in for a sweet kiss just after Caesar’s swallowed a chocolate, a kiss Caesar is more than happy to return.

Only the softest beds and finest linens are suitable for Cleopatra to rest on. In the event that no suitable bed can be found, she lays her head on his soft belly instead, and he strokes her hair until she falls asleep.

Cleopatra would be beautiful even in rags, but only the most exquisite clothes are worthy of even touching her. He buys her silks and satins and anything she desires.

Sometimes he runs low on money, and can no longer spoil her as he’s accustomed to. He always finds a way to pay her back for her favors during this time, to scrounge up the money somewhere - his pride demands nothing less.

Even when he has not a coin to his name, there is still one more luxury he can shower her in.

True bliss is Cleopatra with her legs on both sides of his head, clutching his hair and calling out his name. The way she shudders against his tongue, the way her back arches and her toes curl. Her pleasure is far sweeter than any food he’s sampled.

If this were his only indulgence - if he had no delicious food, nor soft beddings, nor fine clothes, nor the slightest expectation that she might dote on him in return afterward - he would still be satisfied, so long as he was still able to bring her to ecstasy.

(But she does dote on him, for just as he takes pleasure in seeing her in bliss, so does she take pride in reducing his silver tongue to incoherence. If there is anything better than bringing her beloved to the height of ecstasy, it is reaching that point together.)


End file.
